


Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop

by mightymaple



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1256386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightymaple/pseuds/mightymaple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Francis meets the man of his dreams at a coffee shop and asks him out in a really ridiculous way. Franada. Side pairing of USUK and probably SuFin if I continue this. Inspiration taken from Falling in Love at a Cofee Shop by Landon Pigg.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for the French are at the end of the chapter. Also, I was actually dared to only use the raisin pick up line for the rest of my life. Thanks, Jen. Thanks a lot.

“If only beauty could draw itself,” Francis sighed, resting his elbow on the counter and watching the door open and close, open and close; the same people coming; the same people going. It was always the same. Suddenly, a man walked in whom Francis had never seen before, though he looked oddly familiar. Although he looked a bit timid and awkward standing at the counter ordering his coffee, something about him intrigued Francis.

“Look at those lips,” Francis mused as the new man turned around towards him. “I want to draw them.”

Francis' old fling, Arthur Kirkland, plopped down unannounced in the chair beside him.

“Why are you staring at that blonde bloke like that?” Arthur asked, startling Francis almost out of his chair.

“Because, mon ami, he is a beautiful human being,” Francis said quietly, watching the man sit down with coffee in hand.

Arthur scoffed. “You can do better than that, certainly.”

Francis looked offended. “I'm sure he's better than your rowdy American, Arthur. Where is he, anyway? Why are you interrupting my search for love?”

“Oh, you mean Alfred? He's running some errands for me. For the big party, remember? Don't tell me you forgot again?” Arthur said exasperatedly.

“Oh merde, Arthur, I'm sorry, I completely forgot...” Francis trailed off. Arthur shot him a death glare. “Oh please, I was only kidding! Of course I remembered your party. How could I ever forget your birthday?”

Arthur sighed. “You bloody wanker. Did you know you're supposed to look at someone when you talk to them and not at some man you don't even know the name of? Francis? Are you listening?”

Francis' reverie dissipated. “I'm going to go talk to him,” he said decisively. “I've been waiting for someone interesting to walk in here for ages. He definitely fits the bill.” Francis got up, his chair scraping along the wood of the floor, and walked over to the man's table.

Francis cleared his throat quietly, not noticing that about half the patrons in the coffee shop were staring at him. “Pardon, monsieur, but have I seen you before?” Francis asked, causing the man with draw-able lips to look up quickly from his book.

“Uhm... non, I don't think so. Who are you?” he asked.

“Oh, parlez-vous français? Je m'appelle Francis, et vous?” Francis asked gracefully, sitting down in the chair next to him and setting down his things.

“Bonjour, Francis. Je m'appelle Matthew. Oui, je peux parle en français. Je suis un Canadienne.” Matthew said, throwing a dazzling smile Francis's way. 

“A Canadian, hmm? Well, I just wanted you to know, Matthieu, that si la beauté était les temps, vous seriez une éternité,” Francis said softly, winking as Matthew blushed slightly.

“Oh, merci," Matthew said softly, "I would say the same for you, but you certainly are more beautiful than I am." 

Francis waved the Canadian off. "Non, non, non, you are the beautiful one," he assured, licking his lips absentmindedly. Why were his hands getting so sweaty? He tried not to rub them on his pants.  
Matthew grinned and reached out his hand. “Well, it's nice to meet you Francis. I liked that pick up line,” Matthew smiled even wider. “Are you an astronaut?”

“Non, pourquoi?” Francis asked, resting his head on his arm and leaning in towards Matthew, hoping he would pick up on the body language.

“Because your ass is out of this world,” Matthew finished, laughing when Francis couldn't contain his huge, toothy grin.

"Tell me Matthew, when was the last time you met someone as interesting as I?" the Frenchman asked, causing Matthew to raise his eyebrows. 

"Well, that I can't say. I'm sure I've never met anyone quite as modest as you, though," Matthew laughed, taking a long drink of his coffee. 

"What brought you here to sunny New York, anyway?" Francis questioned, watching the rain pour down from the endlessly dreary spring sky. It was by no means sunny on Long Island. 

"I moved to the States about a year ago for my senior year of high school and it just sort of stuck," Matthew confided, "I found out about this university and I am currently double majoring in astronomy and comparative literature," he continued. 

"Oh, vraiment? So you are a freshman then? Welcome to our school! I am a junior, currently double majoring in art history and comparitive literature," Francis said, finishing off the dredges in the bottom of his cup. What a coincidence that Matthew was a double major and majoring in comparative literature as well! 

"That's exciting! I'm actually a sophomore, good guess. I can't believe I haven't seen you around here before," Matthew murmured. 

"Such a shame to have not met someone as beautiful as you until today," Francis countered, watching Matthew's round crimson lips tighten into a smile. His heart was pounding. Francis wondered what on earth was wrong with him, he usually never got this nervous when he was flirting with people.

"So you are an artist, oui?" Matthew asked, watching Francis's hands fold and unfold. The scraping of chairs and chattering of the people around them had become hardly noticeable background noise. Francis could feel his social anxiety he tried so hard to press down brimming back up again. His heartbeat was definitely not at a regular pace. Finally, he said something. 

"Oui, Matthieu. Now that you mention it... would you mind if I drew your lips?" he asked. 

"What for?" Matthew blushed, standing up to toss his cup into the trash and quickly sitting back down. 

"For my own pleasure, I suppose. They're really beautiful and full," Francis trailed off. What was he saying? 

"Mmm, oui, you can draw my lips," Matthew replied, resting his chin in his hands. 

"Merci," Francis said, opening his sketchbook to a new page. "Please, feel free to talk." Francis focused all of his attention on Matthew's mouth. He definitely wasn't going to complain about this situation. Arthur's exasperated expression was clear in the back of Francis's mind. Not like he cared about what that terrible cook had to say. 

Matthew and Francis sat in silence for a few seconds, enjoying the noise of the shop and the faint sound of Arctic Monkeys being played over the speakers. When Francis was satisfied he had gotten the curve of Matthew's upper lip right, he spoke. 

“Do you like raisins?” Francis interrogated, looking up from his sketchbook. He was almost certain his heart was going to explode out of his chest soon. 

“Uhm, yes?” Matthew replied, slightly confused.

“How about a date?” Francis said, trying to be as serious as possible. Stupid Antonio and his stupid dares from high school. 

“Oh...” Matthew trailed off, looking down shyly at his hands. 

“That was a serious question, by the way,” Francis said, sighing. “My friend in high school made me swear that I would only ask people out by using that pick up line. It's horrible, I am so sorry.”

“It's fine!” Matthew said hurriedly, “I just wasn't sure if you were being serious or not. I would love to go out with you, Francis. What time does your shift end?”

“Wait, how did you know I worked here?” Francis questioned, narrowing his eyebrows.

“Lucky guess, actually. You seem to feel really comfortable here, so I figured you are probably really familiar with this shop,” Matthew explained.

“Wow, are you sure you're not a consulting detective? Listen, my shift starts in five minutes, but it ends at around ten thirty. Will you come back for me and we can have a late night adventure?” Francis said quickly, scribbling his number onto a page of his sketchbook and tearing it out. He handed it to Matthew. 

“Of course I will, Francis. You're the first person who has really talked to me around here. See you then, I guess?” Matthew said as Francis stood up, hesitant to leave his beautiful new acquaintance and, if he played his cards right, boyfriend. 

“Absolutely,” Francis breathed, running off to the back room. His ugly dark blue apron (that was still covered in pastry flour from earlier that morning) was still hanging on the third hook from the right. He shoved his book bag under the counter, along with his sketchbook. He sighed as he watched Matthew finish off his coffee and walk out the door, the bell tinkling. Just seven more hours until he could see that beautiful face again. Until then, he had his work cut out for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations: 
> 
> Mon ami = my friend
> 
> Merde = shit
> 
> Je m'appelle = my name is
> 
> Je peux parle = I can speak/talk
> 
> Je suis un Canadienne = I am a Canadian
> 
> Si la beauté était les temps, vous seriez une éternité = If beauty were time, you'd be an eternity
> 
> Merci = thank you
> 
> Vraiment = really
> 
> Pourquoi = Why


	2. First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think (I HOPE) these are the only translations needed for this particular chapter.   
> Merci (beaucoup)- thanks (a lot)  
> De rien- It's nothing   
> Salut- hello (more informal than bonjour/bonsoir)  
> Desolé- sorry

The next seven hours went by painfully slow for Francis. He made a coffee, and then he made another coffee, and another, until so many coffees had been made and so many hasty customers had taken them away to be digested without so much as a “Hello!” or “Thank you!” that Francis felt as if the very soul inside of him had been sucked out. His fellow baristas were busily talking about their boyfriends and girlfriends on their break, but all Francis could think about was Matthew and his lips and the way he didn’t even think it was weird when Francis asked if he could draw him. Arthur had always thought it was weird.

Francis sighed and glanced over at his sketchbook that he had stowed away during his shift that was coming to a close. If he could just get another look at the rendering of Matthew’s lips…

The bell on the door chimed. Francis looked up to see none other than Matthew Williams walk into the coffee shop and plop down at one of the many empty tables that were a characteristic of the late-night shift. He waved at Francis and sat down to work on his paper on black hole cosmology, which he had spent way too much time writing and was perhaps overly-knowledgeable about. Francis glanced at his watch. Only ten more minutes until he could go be with Matthew.

“So, Francis, who’s that guy you’ve been eyeing?” His favorite coworker, Tino, nudged him and jerked his head in Matthew’s direction. Tino was at least five years older than Francis and acted like an older brother towards him sometimes. Given the rarity of Francis’s serious crushes, Tino liked to keep up on who Francis had found that actually interested him.

“His name is Matthew,” Francis said quietly, “and I’m taking him… out… tonight.”

“I see,” Tino smirked. “He’s tall and blonde… seems like we both have a type.”

Francis laughed and thought of Tino’s husband, a tall man of Swedish descent named Berwald, who was also tall and blonde, just like Matthew. He glanced down at his watch again. Three more minutes.

Tino handled the last few orders of their shift while Francis cleaned up a bit. He swept the floor and wiped down the counters, then it was time to clock out for the night. He hung up his apron (which was still in need of washing, Francis kept getting flour from the pastries they also sold all over the front of it), gathered his things, and plopped himself down next to Matthew, who had conveniently just finished writing up the paper he had been working on.

“Salut,” Matthew said, closing the lid of his laptop. “Would you like to get the hell out of here?”

“I would like nothing more than to adventure into the night with you,” Francis declared, rising from his chair and leaving Tino to lock up. “Merci beaucoup, Tino!”

“De rien!” Tino smiled as Francis and Matthew walked out the door and out into the bitter cold of the New York winter.

“Where do you want to go?” Matthew asked, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

“It’s actually a surprise,” Francis revealed. “Just follow me and know that we’re going to the Health Sciences center on campus, eventually.”

Matthew nodded (although he was really curious as to why they were going to the health sciences center building) and followed Francis, who had begun carefully walking down the salted, snowy sidewalk. It was a very clear and cold night, and Francis was disappointed that he had left his good scarf back in his dorm room. No one should ever be without a scarf on Long Island in the winter. On the other hand, it was the perfect night for stargazing and Francis knew that Matthew would love his favorite spot; the roof of the health sciences center.

“Desolé, I have to go gather some things from my dorm,” Francis explained. “I am very cold already.”

“Jeez, you barely know me and you’re already taking me home?” Matthew teased. “But seriously, I’m really warm, do you want to borrow my scarf?”

Francis smiled and saw Matthew’s flushed cheeks under the light of the streetlamps. How was he that warm?

“Funny joke. I think I can survive until I get my own from my dorm room, merci.”

They walked on in silence, as Francis could only think about how easily Matthew walked on the icy sidewalk and how warm the hands in his pockets must be. His were cold and clammy.

Finally, they arrived at Francis’s dorm. He fumbled for his keys and opened the door, stepping back to let Matthew in.

“Your dorm smells like roses and oil pastel,” Matthew decided, plopping himself down on what he hoped was Francis’s bed and not his roommate’s.

Francis closed the door behind him and grabbed his scarf from a hook. He gestured to the small desk in the corner, on which sat a vase of roses and his latest art project; an oil pastel rendering of the same vase of roses. Matthew hopped up to look at it.

“This is beautiful,” Matthew said quietly as Francis rummaged through his drawers and procured two ratty old blankets.

“Merci beaucoup,” Francis grinned. “Are you ready?”

“What are the blankets for…?”

“You’ll see.”

Francis ushered him out of his dorm room and back out into the hallway. He led him up onto the roof of the health sciences center, the blankets still tucked under his arm.

“Is this even legal?” Matthew asked, watching as Francis spread one of the blankets out on the concrete.

“Maybe not.” Francis winked at Matthew. He sat down on the blanket and patted the spot beside him. Matthew carefully sat down next to Francis and looked out over the rooftops.

“As much as I disagree with what we’re doing morally and worry about losing my scholarship, what a perfect night for stargazing,” Matthew whispered, leaning back onto his hands. Francis smiled and put his head down on the rolled up edge of the blanket.

“How convenient that that is exactly what I intended to do with you tonight,” Francis said. “I want you to tell me about space, if that’s okay…”

Matthew laid down beside Francis. “Of course it is! I am an astronomy major, after all. Where do you want me to start?”

“With whatever you like the most. But I’d rather learn a little bit more about you, first. What’s your absolute favorite thing?”

“Well, I really like pancakes and maple syrup. Which is really stereotypically Canadian, but who cares? What about you?”

“Pancakes are okay, crêpes are where it’s at. As for my favorite thing, I really like drawing. My first thought when you walked into the shop was that I wanted to draw you…” Francis trailed off. Matthew blushed.

“Did you leave your sketchbook in your dorm?” Matthew asked. “Because I’d be glad to let you draw me right now, under the stars…” Matthew blushed more.

“I bring my sketchbook everywhere, Matthew. Everywhere.” Francis declared. He procured his sketchbook from his messenger bag and flipped through it to find a blank page. “You can lay just like that, if you want. Talk to me about yourself. This is our first date, you know.”

“Right, sorry. It’s absolutely frigid out here, could you hand me that other blanket?” Francis looked up from the beginnings of his sketch and tossed the blanket over the two of them. “Merci. So, I was born in Québec and pretty much grew up doing very stereotypically Canadian things. I played hockey and was nuts about it, I speak French fluently, real maple syrup was always in my pantry along with several (hundred) boxes of Kraft mac and cheese… I’m totally kidding about the mac and cheese, my dad hated it and my mom would have to buy it for us when he was away on business trips.

“Anyways, life was pretty comfortable for us, until I came out when I was sixteen. That was when I knew I needed to get away from my parents’ influence and start forging my own way to adulthood here in the United States. I’ve been living here since about a week after my seventeenth birthday.” Matthew finished.

“What happened between you and your parents that caused you to want to move away? If you are comfortable with me asking, that is.” Francis said without looking up from his sketchbook.

“They thought that I should have stayed in the closet and were basically angry that I hadn’t consulted them before telling pretty much everyone. They kept telling me that colleges wouldn’t want me and that girls wouldn’t want me, amongst other things, and that made me angry because they refused to understand and thought it funny that I didn’t care about what relationships it might impact because I wouldn’t want to be with someone or go to a college that wouldn’t accept me the way I am. That, and my offer of a transfer by some ridiculously pretentious high school in Massachusetts, is why I am currently laying here beside you.”

“Sounds awful,” Francis mused, “I am very glad that I didn’t have to go through the same experience. Also your parents are idiots for multiple reasons that I am sure you already understand.” Matthew nodded, gazing into the sky.

“I am almost done,” Francis added, putting the finishing touches on his sketch of

Matthew laying under the stars.

“I’m sure it looks beautiful,” Matthew stated, beginning to hunt for Orion among the stars. It should have been fairly simple, since it is best seen in January, but Matthew was having trouble.

“It is finished.” Francis held his sketchbook out to Matthew, letting him see the finished product.

“Wow, that’s really good,” Matthew breathed. “You even got my hair right.”

Francis beamed and carefully put his sketchbook back into his messenger bag. “There is more where that came from.” He laid back down on the blanket and wrapped it tight around his body. He admitted to himself that it was probably way too cold to be laying outside.

“You know what I find… fascinating?” Matthew inquired, his eyes finally locking on Orion.

“Non, what?”

“Black holes,” Matthew breathed. “They could hold entire universes inside of themselves. Granted, those universes could just be a variation of the same void that fills spaces in our universe, just with different physical laws and what-not, but I still think it’s amazing.”

“Tell me more,” Francis urged, turning to watch as Matthew’s eyes lit up in the moonlight.

“There’s these things called singularities, it’s basically the inside of a black hole, and I really want to know if someone could survive a black hole singularity or if we could send in some equipment to find out what it’s like. That’ll be impossible for a long time, however, because of our current limitations in communication with the technology we create, but give it time, and magical things could happen. I wish I could be around to see that…”

“Matthew, is it okay if I kiss you right now? I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone this badly.”

“G-go ahead,” Matthew said shakily, turning his head so that Francis could lightly press his lips against Matthew’s still very drawable ones. It was a short, sweet kiss, and so was the one right after that, and Francis’s heart felt tighter than it ever had before, like he was about to burst. The world around him felt warmer, like it was better somehow now that he had kissed this adorable, nerdy Canadian. Francis had fallen in love.


End file.
